


Choose Your Path or Make A New One

by Wintercameandwent



Series: Family, Duty, Honor and a Dragon Queen [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aemon and not Aegon, Alternate Ending, Canon Divergence, Children, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, King with 2 Queens, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Out of Character, Polygamy, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Pregnancy, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, or maybe it will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintercameandwent/pseuds/Wintercameandwent
Summary: A little over six years has passed since the end of the summit.Take a glimpse into the world of Jon, Daenerys, and Sansa as they stayed the course they set at the end of Family, Duty, Honor and a Dragon Queen.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Family, Duty, Honor and a Dragon Queen [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552642
Comments: 13
Kudos: 13





	Choose Your Path or Make A New One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the original ending to the story.
> 
> It was a challenge to write because I found myself feeling so differently about the characters once I started putting words to paper. As I have written before, staying on this topic pushed me past my own boundaries, both as a person and as a fanfic writer. It was very challenging to do. Nevertheless I stayed as true as I could to my initial outline.
> 
> Remember to keep comments copacetic :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_**Six years after the summit ended...** _

“Lord Commander Snow we have a situation.”

Jon turns away from his command desk. He stands before a map of the island with his best trainers, some born Northmen some Unsullied, planning the next set of drills the current group of older cadets must complete to show enough aptitude to continue onto the next course. He sighs, as his mind tries to determine what matter of importance is so great that he and his instructors require interruption. 

“What seems to be the issue Mrodic?” Jon’s eyes take in the manner and demeanor of one of their oldest students, a young bastard from the Riverlands who has proven himself as one of the best archers in his line. The young man with dark hair and eyes, stands with his back straight, but their seems to be a looseness about his eyes and lips...as if he is attempting to mask a smile. Jon is believing that the issue at hand is not as grave as he might have thought.

“The cook has been burgled once again, by the same offenders she has discovered before. She is seeking the Lord Commander’s assistance as she was told to do during the last instance of pilfering.” 

The young man keeps an even expression during his request. Jon hears the faint snickers and laughter covered up by incessant coughing, by his main instructors, as he walk out of his work room. Jon is _NOT_ amused, well that is what he tells himself. He can hear his wife’s voice in his head, _“Do not encourage their wildness Jon Snow. For the humor you see in their behavior as children will not be so funny when they are grown.”_ He makes his way down the winding passages to the kitchen when he is stopped by the cook, herself.

“Lord Commander! I am so sorry. I just don’t know what to do. Madam Daenerys has been so ill lately, I didn't want to disturb her, and with Lady Sansa sojourn to Winterfell and White Harbor for the last moon, there left no one but you milord.” 

When he arrives, he sees the culprits of the latest heist, Jon stands before the four criminals that reside in his household. Dressed in his black leathers, his hair bound by a leather strap, and a solemn expression on his face. Jon begins to pace the length of the kitchen with his hands behind his back, the four offenders eyeing him as he passes their view, aware that in this moment they should not speak until spoken to...how _NOT_ like them. Once he has decided on his words, he pauses his stride to once again face the small horde who stole from the kitchens. 

“I am beyond words at this moment. This is not the first time we have met here in regards to this issue. You have tried my hand, yet again. It seems you do not see me as a man of my word. So, while it saddens me to do this, it must be done.” Jon pauses, taking in the wide-eyes and quivering lips of thieves right before he passes his sentence. 

“As of today, there will be no dessert served to any of the Snow children for the next fortnight, and you are banned from eating any lemon cakes for the next moon.” 

A cacophony of complaints shatter the silence of the room. “Stop. I do not want to hear it.” Jon turns to his oldest child. “Missandei you are the oldest, I expect a better example out of you.” 

“But Father ---" The petite six-year-old with long dark hair, looking more like a Stark than a Targaryen, pleads...her Stark gray eyes beseeching. Jon pretends being unaffected as he knows his girl is very aware of how much she can bend him to her will. A power she wields purposefully. 

He continues on to his first-born son, Robb, a 4-year-old boy just as Stark in looks as his father and older sister, and his twin sister Ayrenne, whose likeness to her mother overwhelms him most times. “That’s not fair ---” “No, please ---” 

“I think it is very fair, since asking you and your siblings to stop stealing the lemon cakes and other assorted treats does not seem to work. Ayrenne do not shake your head at me.” 

“But Father... _they’re lemon cakes!_ she implores, her blue Tully eyes begging for him to relent. Jon turns his gaze to his next child in hopes to avoid breaking his resolve at his youngest daughter’s plea...a power she has but doesn’t seem to know how to use to her benefit. 

“As for you Benjen ---” 

“Oh...!” And with a dramatic drop onto his rump, his youngest at two and a half years old, lets out a pitiful wail that had Jon looking to the ceiling of the kitchen, biting the insides of his cheek to offset his desire to burst out in laughter at the hilarity of this situation. His children bring him joy in the mist of the chaos that seems to follow them. When he thinks he has his own expression under his control he attempts to bring his gaze to his young charges. 

Jon bends down so that he is leveled with his children, he lifts Benjen onto his knee, wiping the enormous teardrops from the cheeks of his dark-haired grey-eyed boy,...Jon marvels on how big all their tears seem to appear to him. Daenerys laughs at him and tells him that they aren’t as big as he thinks. Sansa claims they seem bigger to him because our weaknesses always appear larger than they really are...and seeing his children’s unhappiness is a hardship for him. Drawing them closer to him, he once again explains their current punishment. 

“I do not choose this punishment to pain you, but you must learn that there is a price to pay for every action you choose to take. Sometimes we are fine with paying the price because it is worth the cost, and sometimes as in this moment, you find the cost was not worth the price. This is the path you have chosen though. I am not angry with you, a tad disappointed, but I believe you can and will do your best to make better choices...for this invitation will come again.” Jon could see the hope in their eyes that he was to change their penalty, but again his crimson-haired wife whispers in his mind about their propensity for wildness. “...after you’ve completed your penance.” 

As expected, they all deflated, and with a synchronized “Yes, Father.” Missandei takes Benjen by the hand, and all four of them turned to the cook and offered their apologies...once again...they came back to Jon baring kisses on his cheek, and together left the kitchen. Jon could only think about what trouble they might be off to next. The cook thanks him before she walk away into the large pantry. 

“Hmmmm...I was wondering if you were going to cave in.” A deep sultry voice entered the room, pulling Jon from his thoughts, his eyes going to his wife...Daenerys Snow. He stands and Dany walks towards him and into his arms. Jon lowers his lips to hers, drinking her in as he’s wont to do. 

When their lips separate, Jon inquires about Daenerys health. “I am feeling better. It must have been something I ate, nothing worth the worry, my love.” Jon wraps a long curl along his finger, nodding in acceptance of her words and trying not to concern himself more than he should, even though his wife has been intermittently ill for the last moon. 

“Seriously, Jon. I haven’t been the only person on the island who has been ill.” Jon does find some solace in that. It really does seem like isolated instances...except for Dany, but the maester said there is nothing to worry about. 

“So, what brings you out of your rooms? Should you not be resting.” 

“I come bearing news. A raven has arrived from Winterfell. Sansa is due home in a fortnight. It seems as though her trip has been successful. I gather she misses the children...and perhaps...you as well.” Daenerys's laughter dances at the end of her declaration as she walks out the kitchen. 

Jon smiles for he has no doubt that Sansa misses the children, misses her home. The thought of his wife’s return gladdens him. He’s misses her, their talks about the affairs of the island or of her work with the North, watching her mother their children, their private times, finding pleasure in her body...her sighs, moans, scent, taste. There is no doubt in his mind that he is delirious to have his wife back. Their marriage is not a conventional one, multiple spouses aside. Sansa leads the North in trading within this new Westeros and abroad in Essos. It’s a job that she is well suited for, but it does demand that there are times she must travel, and when she does her absences is palpable. But Jon would never ask her to give this aspect of her life up, for it brings her joy beyond just their marriage, their children, and their family. 

Walking out of the kitchen and back towards his solar, every time she leaves he worries for her safety though she would never put herself in harm’s way, and has proven herself adept at securing her own safety after all these years...they have experienced too much loss not to be wary of what could occur during a long absence. Happy to know she is on her way home; he begins to countdown the days till the other part of his heart returns. 

***

“Jon, I think it might be time to consider moving Missandei out of the nursery.”

Looking up from the letter in his hand, his back against the headboard of his bed, Jon awaits Daenerys’s return to his room. He watches as she begins to disrobe behind the dressing screen, removing her light woolen dress and replacing it with her night clothes. The petite woman walks quickly to the bed, the room still cooler than she would like.

“Why? Has she requested the change?” Jon inquires as Dany finds purchase under the furs, resting her head on his chest. Her finger stroking his navel as she continues their conversation.

“The nursemaid just informed me that it seems she has taken to waking up the twins in the middle of the night.” Dany looks up at him. Her violet gaze holding his, the letter in his hand momentarily forgotten. 

“What are they doing?”

“They are planning their adventures. Your daughter’s words...” A smirk tugs at her lips. Jon presses his lips to hers in a quick kiss. 

“Adventures. That does not sound prudent.” He murmurs. “I might have a talk with the guards on duty. They will need to be extra vigilant. I do not know when is it the right time to move a child from the nursery. Do you?”

“No, not really. I always remembered being in a nursery, until we lost our home. I imagine Sansa would have a better idea when to move a child, but she may not want Missy there just for the sheer fact that it will be safer for the twins. Robb will follow Missy, but Aryenne will follow Robb. It’s quite the vicious cycle.” Dany laughs at her own words, bring Jon’s lips to a smile. 

“Hmmm...why don’t we wait until Sansa’s return before making such decisions. It might be premature on our end...unless you feel that she is ready and want Missy to have her own room.” Jon reasons as he runs his fingers through her long silver-blonde hair. 

“My mother’s intuition tells me she is not ready, not quite yet. I don’t want her to feel as if she isn’t welcomed in their shared room, but she needs to at least try to exercise a little bit more control. She’s very...impulsive.” Silver-blonde brow quirked. “She might look like the second coming of Arya Stark, but she is her mother’s daughter, of that I have no doubt. Impulsivity is not a good Targaryen quality, love.” 

“Dany she is six. She does have natural limitations on how much chaos she can inflict. She is a child, doing what children do. Growing up in Winterfell, in hindsight, I can admit we were quite indulged, rebellious, and for some of us...very spoiled. Do not superimpose yourself onto her. It is not fair to your relationship as her mother, and it is not fair to cast a shadow on our daughter for phantom acts she has yet or will ever find herself doing.” Jon expression is solemn. He understands Daenerys’s fear, but he sometimes thinks she is too quick to overcorrect Missandei. 

“You say that now, but one day she may have a dragon of her own. Drogon will not stay gone forever, and with that dragon comes others. While your Targaryen blood runs through your children with Sansa, some may or may not be bonded with one of those dragons. Our daughter though, she will have both mine and your blood in her. She has two parents who have been dragonriders. A mother who brought back dragons into the world. There is no doubt in my mind that Missandei will be a dragonrider as well. I want her tempered. She needs to know self-restraint.” A concern that never leaves Dany’s mind, Jon thinks as he understands why and where is wife’s concern resides. 

“She is growing up in security Dany. In a home with love and boundaries. Parents who love her, siblings that she love and who genuinely adore her, extended family that love her for who she is. Missy will grow straight and strong. She has just as many ancestors of the North flowing through her veins as she has Targaryen. That child is of the North...a Northern woman is what we are raising. I know you see you, but I see Arya...” Jon looks down at the letter in his hand. “...just as I am sure Eddard Stark would have seen Lyanna.” 

Catching the direction of his gaze, Dany guessed the author of the missive. “Hmmmm...how is your mother?” She murmurs against his chest, her eyes staring into his, waiting on his response. Jon still finds that word odd to think let alone say... _"mother"_. Shortly after the summit, and Missy’s birth, Jon moved to Bear Island leaving Dany and his child at Greywater Watch while he made the island secure for all his family. 

Sansa was still very unsure about their atypical alliance, until she came and saw Bear Island, committing again to live in a shared home. Jon remembers the night she told him she would not back away from him...from this. He took her on his bed, on the furs by the hearth, in the tub, against the desk in his solar. She had returned to Frozen Shores for a short time and planned to resurface as quickly as she could. When she returned she came with Hindya, an unexpected surprised, but not entirely unwelcome one. Sansa was different though. Her demeanor had changed, she seemed quieter, almost frightened. She told him he had to speak privately with Hindya, and once he had if he still wanted her, then she would stay. 

Not understanding then how Hindya could tamper with his reunification with Sansa, suspecting that Hindya was the cause of Sansa’s shift in behavior, Jon approached Hindya directly about the change he saw in Sansa. It was then that Hindya told him the story of her origin. How she once was of the Westerosi North. How she loved a man she should not. How they were foolish and reckless in their feelings for each other. How her brother and father were killed by her lover’s father. How a kingdom went to war for it. How she left the child of that unsanctioned union with her brother. It had not take Jon long to realize who this woman once was. He tried to deny it, but for so long he knew the woman felt familiar, but he never thought to persist in why. Wolf-blood met wolf-blood in that chamber and all the people on Bear Island could hear were their roars.

Sansa came to him, telling him that when she returned to the settlement that Arya was there. Ever the clever Stark, Arya had figured out who Hindya was, and that she told Sansa. Before coming back to him, she made Hindya come to tell Jon her truth from her mouth, for he was going to hear it from Sansa regardless. Hindya came and that is how Jon learned his mother was still alive. It hasn’t been the easiest relationship. Jon has many ill feelings about her and Rhaegar’s choices...having to live as a bastard, and she has many ill feelings about his choice in wives...or rather Daenerys in particular. When Jon called her on her own hypocrisy, marrying a Targaryen and sharing a husband of her own, she retorted _“Exactly, so maybe I am speaking more from experience and less from falseness.”_

It was in his child that she could find a truce. She absolutely melted when she held Missandei. It was in his child that his ‘mother’ and his wife could find consensus. 

It had been much easier for Sansa, for his ‘mother’ liked Sansa. It did not hurt that she was kin, a beloved daughter of Eddard Stark, making her an extension of her precious brother. Their children were loved just as much as Missy was. It seemed where Jon’s mother might have reservations about his choice to have a plural marriage, she adored her grandchildren, regardless of who birthed them. 

Thoughts returning back to Daenerys’s question. “She is well. Just confirming that she will arrive in a moon’s turn.”

“Joy of joys...” Dany sighs into his chest, making Jon chuckle at her feigned enthusiasm. He kisses the top of her head, but it seems as though his wife is not in the mood for quiet affection. She kisses him sharply, climbing over him to straddle his body, her night shift rising up her pleasing thighs. Daenerys begins to slowly pull at the laces on the top of her gown until it is open...uncovering herself to him. Jon meets Daenerys want with desire of his own, both of them adjusting accordingly, until Daenerys seats Jon. He raises his upper body, holding her tenderly against him, his heart beating in tandem with hers. Gasps, moans, and sounds of flesh striking flesh is all that could be heard in his chamber as Jon loved on his wife.

***

The day had arrived. Jon could see her ship sailing from the South of the bay. About four years ago, a ship was designed for her, since she travels mostly by sea. Made with a red toned wood, they call it the Red Wolf when spotted from the shores. She was almost home; Jon could feel the band that always seems to wrap itself around his chest every time she leaves begin to loosen.

“Only a little bit longer, Jon.” Dany’s knowingly smiles at him. 

She holds Benjen on her hip, the little boy resting his head on her shoulder, with a toy ship that is the miniature replica that sails his mother. The little boy looks up at his wife “Mama come, Dany.” 

“Yes, Benjen. Mama is coming.” She responds to the child in her arms. Jon smiles at his son and wife. He holds Aryenne on his shoulders, the little girl swinging her feet back and forth, as she watches her twin and big sister running around the harbor. “You sure you don’t want to come down sweetling?” 

“No, Father. I want to wait here for Mama.” 

The older children wait a safe distance from the dock. Jon can see his crimson-haired wife standing tall and beautiful. Her smile wide. To the rest of the world she is Sansa Stark the emissary to the North, but as soon as she steps off her ship she is Sansa Snow, and that woman is happy to be home, that he knows. 

Jon and Dany lower the children they had so that they could run to their mother. A chorus of “Mama” and “San”, “What did you see?” and “What did you bring us?” come from the youngest of the Snows. Sansa absorbs all the love they have stored during her departure. The three older children are leaning against her, as she holds Benjen in her arms. “Welcome home, Sansa.” Daenerys tells her sister-wife. 

“It’s good to be home, Daenerys.” The women share a smile. Eyeing Jon the way Sansa does makes him want to consume her in broad daylight, but parenthood and common decency just won’t allow for it. 

“Looks like Sansa made it just before dinner. How about we check with cook and get ready for supper. Let’s give Sansa a chance to clean up, shall we. I am sure we can secure some lemon cakes from the kitchen. Sensing an opportunity to make Jon bend, Daenerys suggest that Jon might forgo his decree on desserts for just this night...since Sansa’s arrival _is a special occasion._

As they walk back to the keep, Benjen held his mother’s face as he jabbered on about, and the children kept chiming in with tales of their own. Jon considers Dany’s words, and wanting to be alone with his wife so that he could kiss her senseless, he chooses to concede. Nodding his decision, the children happily left with Dany to do her bidding. Daenerys sends them a smirk as she follow the children. 

Sansa marches herself up to her chambers, but Jon pulls her away and into his own. The bath he requested to be drawn was still hot. His wife always loves to soak in a bath after a return. Not able to keep his hands off of her he pulls her face at an angle towards his and he kisses her with abandon.

He tugs at her clothes, wanting to feel as much of her flesh as he can, she is eager to do the same. Jon means to draw her to the tub, but instead he begins to walk her back to his bed...for that is where he wants her, where he’s missed her. All feels right as he enters her. Her long shapely legs wrapped around him, her nails trying to find purchased on his back, as one of his hands threads itself though her long hair, and his other arm wraps around her waist...pulling her close and tight to him, the slight swell of her abdomen reminding him of how well he had loved her before. 

“Sansa, how I’ve missed you.” He tries to find his breath, but all his senses can do is take her in, grounding himself to her. “Things are just not the same when you are not here. Gods, San...” 

She gives herself to him, and sets a reawakening in him. The part of him that belongs only to her, that had been dormant during the time she had been gone, was now awake and taking every advantage of being so.

After dinner and much later into the night, Sansa slumbers beside him, exhaustion snatching her away after their latest bout of lovemaking. As he makes his way to the balcony, Jon stares at the night sky, littered with more stars than he can remember seeing. He takes in the measure of his life. The journey he didn’t know he had to take to get where he is. At times his story seem so unreal. All he knows, as he thinks on the women he loves and the family he has...the one he was born into and the one he created, the work he does on the island that serves to continue to protect the "realm of men". Living his life quietly and on his terms should not exist for him, not after Kings Landing. Yet it does, and as long as there is breathe left for him to breath, Jon Snow will not question it. He will just live his life grateful for the blessings in it.

***

It has taken many years for Daenerys Snow accept the loss of her Targaryen name. As the years have passed, she has thought often about the woman who once wore that name, and what she was truly like. There had been goodness, but unfortunately not enough to outweigh the negative aspects of her nature.

If either through indifference, ignorance, arrogance, selfishness, cruelty, or madness the Targaryens have more often than not proven themselves to be the less reliable kinds of leaders. She has delved into each one of those traits with mixed results. 

Over the years she has found a quieter life on the island. She sees young Northern boys and doesn’t see a small Jon Snow, but rather a youthful Jorah Mormont. Living on his family island has been such a bittersweet experience. She is reminded every day that she and her family are alive and thriving in the home of a man who once loved her. A man who was dead and nevermore would she get the chance to see him again...except in the small expressions of these little children. 

While highly resistant to change, she has always been highly adaptable, and that is what she has had to become in order to have this life. It’s a life that allows her to be a wife and a mother, to create a family and to be a part of one. She should not have this; of that she is painfully aware. Walking out of the front doors to the glass houses, her fingers stroke the red colored door, a small smile pulls at her lips. She is reminded of the day the door had been installed. Jon had blindfolded her, walking her carefully down the steps...she was so frightened she’d fall, but she trusted Jon to catch her should she’d lost her balance. A skill he is well adept in executing. Once they were on solid ground, he released the fold, his lips caressing the shell of her ear as he whispered...”Welcome home, Dany.”

Over time the quiet barren island began to thrive. First with a small crop of young children without name or family from the North. Jon wanted the children to find pride in the accomplishments they make for themselves, and that together these bastard surnames will one day be associated with bravery, valor, honor, and duty. He was determined that there would be no shame to have such a name. 

The concept meant very little to her because in Essos each country treats their illegitimate children differently. It isn’t a term used among the Dothraki either. Perhaps that is why she didn’t push the topic of marrying before birthing her daughter. She knows it meant more to Sansa...in that bastardy in Westeros was ingrained and she had concern for how their children would be treated. 

Before they left for Greywater Watch, Davos told Jon that she should think about legitimizing his name, being that he was not a _true_ bastard, but Jon didn’t want to. She remembers his words distinctly, _“I’m a Snow, Davos. I’ve always been a Snow. I know who I am. My name no longer defines me, but rather I define my name. A Snow is how I will remain.”_ In the end both women married Jon, Sansa in the ways of the Old Gods by a weirwood tree and she in the ways of the Dothraki. They both agreed that their children would take the name of their father...Snow.

Arriving to the rows of glass houses that lie just beyond the Keep, Dany walks to the section that houses the trees. She enters the house, the warmth and humidity drawing her in, as she walks over to the plots of lemon trees. While not viable to have a lemon tree outside her window or in front of the red door, it warms her heart to know it resides as a part of her home. 

The lemon tree, a gift from Prince Manfrey to Sansa for his appreciation for her participation in ensuring regular water shipments from the North to Dorne, has been nurtured and with care multiplied into additional lemon trees that grace the property. It is here that she finds her sister-wife, standing with pruning shears, clipping lemons ripe for the taking. 

“I’m surprised to see you here, Sansa. I figured the children would have you pinned to your solar, sharing the woeful tales of mistreatment at the hands of their father.” Daenerys smiles at her words. Never the dearest of friends, she can admit there is a level of conversation she can have with Sansa that she enjoys...she thinks the other woman may feel the same. In order to make their arrangement work, many times they need to slog through new challenges together, before addressing them with Jon. As the years pass, Dany begins to wonder how different might things have been if she and Sansa met under different circumstances.

An understated chuckle bubbled forth out of Sansa, as she looked over towards her, her red hair braided and resting over her shoulder. “Ah. You underestimate the focused resolve of our children. Missy and Robb cornered me at breakfast, waiting till Jon left the room. Of course, Aryenne was there to add her colorful commentary on how she told them not to do the things they did.”

A wide smile split her face; the three oldest children were quite a trio. While Missy and Robb always seemed ready to run full tilt at the world, they have their younger sister to serve as a voice of reason...even if they chose often not to heed her wisdom. “Well then your presence here makes more sense. Planning to bake today.” She comments as she notices the number of lemons in her basket. Every time she returns from a trip Sansa likes to spend some time returning to tasks that bring her home...such as, sewing, baking, playing with the children...tending to the crops in the glass houses. 

“I thought I would make some lemons biscuits. There is a recipe I absolutely love that the new cook in Winterfell has been known to make. She secretly released her recipe as a gift for bringing two of the lemon trees with me. Seems she has just as much love for the fruit as I do.” The crimson beauty declares as she cuts a large lemon that seemed to be hiding behind a leafy branch of greens.

As Daenerys walks up to another lemon tree, she begins collecting fruits to bring to the training kitchens for the instructors to use with their culinary pupils. Her mind is focused on removing one stubborn lemon, when she hears, “So Jon has mentioned that you have been ill. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, I am fine. He worries needlessly. It is Spring flu that I can’t seem to shake.” She contemplates.

“Do you think that maybe you are with child once again?” Sansa questions, her voice a bit more cautious. 

Daenerys smiles sadly, she tries not to dwell to much on the idea. “No. I am not with child. Many years ago, I was told I was barren.”

“And yet you have a six-year-old daughter.” Sansa smirks. 

“I do, but she is mine and Jon’s exception Sansa. All the stars and planets had to align just so...for her to exist. While her parents still live, the magic that resided in him, in me, in the realm...it is gone...its moved on to something else. We are no longer extraordinary, so one child is all we will have.” Daenerys ends her supposition with a heavy sigh. 

With her own silver-blonde hair braided down her back, she feels the weight of it as she leans forward to pull at another fruit. Her eyes slide to Sansa as the other woman sits on a nearby stool. Her eyes take in Sansa’s countenance, her expression, the way in which she carries her body, and she knows something is not quite right.

Pulling away from the tree, she stands before Sansa. “Why do you ask me about being with a child? Are you with child Sansa?” Blue eyes meet her violet ones, and without Sansa’s words, Dany knows. Unable to stop her eyes from widening, she lowers herself so that both women are eye to eye. “How far along are you?”

“Not too far. I’m sorry to bring up you being pregnant. When Jon mentioned your illnesses, my mind went to the mechanics of us both being pregnant...and thinking we should speak and plan, but it seems I was mistaken.” Sansa’s tone, apologetic, but not pitying...making Dany grateful. 

While she has found unexpected joy in loving her daughter’s siblings, she does occasionally wonder what it would be like to have another child of her own.

***

A moon turn has passed since Sansa’s returned, and the Spring is firmly here...as is Jon’s mother. The children know her as Hindya, a close family friend to the Snow’s...one they have been given leave to call grandmother. When the children are older, they will be told their family history, and when that time comes that they learn about Lyanna, they will the learn the truth.

Dany sits on a blanket as she leans against a thick tree trunk, watching the children as they run away from their father...as he chases them mercilessly. A fate both parties enjoy, she is sure. Not a task she would enjoy, not lately. The last fortnight she felt unwell once again, but this time it was not her stomach. She had headaches, and a couple of moments of feeling quite disoriented...to the point of dizzying. Not one to worry too much about her health or draw too much attention, she finds her inability to shake what has gripped her extremely vexing. 

She spies Hindya looking at her, ever observant. “Jon tells me you have been frequently ill. Yet when I asked if you were with child, he said no.”

Not wanting to speak on this topic with her good-mother, she chooses to nod her reply. “Do you think you have been cursed?”

Daenerys laughs for there is truth in those words, truth that Hindya is not privy to. “Yes I am...or was. Many years ago. It is not for me to bare more of Jon’s children. That task would lie with your other good-daughter.” Daenerys eyes glance to the pregnant woman sleeping on a blanket not too far from her own. 

“This babe tires her more than the others it seems. Jon was never like that. I felt fine really, until his birth." Daenerys smiles at how quickly Hindya was to figure out that Sansa was with child. A fact she still had yet to share with Jon.

"Then it just went so horribly wrong.” Hindya muses aloud. Her eyes staring off into a memory only she is intimately familiar with. 

“Hmmmm...she also has other children who require her attention as well. It is all a bit taxing. Sansa shared that Meera found herself with less energy when she was pregnant with Rickon.” Daenerys surmises as she watches her daughter fly into her father’s arms...the man always ready to catch her. 

“Yes...they do say the first one is always the easiest. I am not sure that is true, but I will grant that the first time is...different.” The older woman ponders as she too watches her son with his daughter. “He is a good father...my son. I do not think he would have been if things had been different...if Rhaegar had parented him. Not in that time...not with the trappings of his royal lineage or the prophesy beckoning him. What you see before you, I believe that is courtesy of Ned Stark.”

Dany considers Hindya’s words and tries to filter the woman’s justification for her own actions and the truth. She think somewhere in the middle is the reality. Jon is a good man, and he was raised by one, and now he his helping to raise future good men...and good women.

“You mentioned being cursed...while I do not like to think too much upon it Daenerys, you and your ilk have magic in you...just as the Starks do. Perhaps all your illnesses are trying to tell you that there is a shift coming. Listen to yourself, you might be more aware of what is happening than you realize.” The Northern woman looks to her, her trademark smirk that mirrors her niece and oldest granddaughter, placed on her lips. She stands and begins to make her way to her son and grandchildren. 

_”A shift is coming...listen to yourself.”_ Dany has been ignoring her intuition for a couple of reasons. To acknowledge it means that she could be bringing danger to the peace they have found, and if she is true...when one of her greatest desires could come true. 

“Daenerys? Are you okay?” Jon’s concerned voice pulls her back to the present. One hand cupping her face, the other stroking her hair. His eyes filled with worry. 

“I’m fine Jon.” She touches her hand to his. “Why are you so concerned, love? I am alright.”

“Dany you’re almost at the edge of this cliff. We kept calling your name, but you did not stop. Look around you...” His voice tight.

She looks around to see the children far down the hill, standing beside Sansa and Hindya, their faces heavy with alarm. When she turns to look behind her she sees the edge of the cliff that leads to the sea. In that moment her heart lurches when she considers what could have happened if Jon had not stopped her. Blessed what was she thinking. Dany grabbed onto Jon’s tunic. “I’m sorry Jon. I don’t know what came over me. I was just thinking about...” She trails off not wanting to say what she hopes to be true.

“What!” He demands. His voice harsh. She knows it is his fear of her recent actions paired with her illnesses that has caused him to be short with her. 

Dany looks back to the grown women and the young children at the base of the hill, she sees Sansa shooing the children back towards the keep, Missy’s hand in hers. Sansa send them one last looks before leading the charge back to their home...leaving her and Jon on the edge of the cliff. 

“Dany I can’t help you unless you speak to me. What is wrong? What is happening?” Jon redirects. His grip on her arms loosening a bit as she wraps her arm around him, resting her head on his chest. They stay this way for a long while, as Jon wraps one arm around her as he runs his hand over her hair. She can feel he wants to push, but he is giving her time to collect her thoughts. 

“It’s Drogon.” She says in a quiet voice. 

“Drogon?” Jon pulls away a bit to meet her eyes. 

“I think she’s coming back. I can feel it...and I don’t think she’s coming back alone. Dragons are coming back to Westeros, Jon.” She can feel the fear combined with joy at the notion, but from Jon all she can sense is fear. The man had limited experience with dragons...he only having Rhaegal for such a short time. 

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, as his eyes are drawn to the horizon as though a small horde of dragons would be flying in their direction.

“Yes.”

“How much time do we have?” He inquires.

“Not much...they are close, Jon. So very close.”

***

They all sat at the rounded table in a smaller chamber, where they had their could dine as a family. It was noon and the children had just settled into having their midday meal. The Missy and Robb were sharing what they saw in the training yards, while Aryenne was telling her father how she hit her target with her arrow. Hindya was in the middle of asking Missy to join her for an archery lesson, when they heard it.

The table froze at the first roar. Then in mist of the others paralysis she rose and ran out the keep by the time the second roar reaches their ears. People were scattered about the courtyard. Many where running to find shelter in the keep and the dwellings nearby. Daenerys could not stop her forward momentum. She could hear Jon and Missy calling her, but she just could not make herself stop until she reach the top of the hill.

Just was so focused on making it to the top of the hill that she hadn’t had the opportunity to look up until she reached the crest. When she did, she saw the most beautiful sight. There they were...Drogon...and her children...Rhaegal’s children standing behind her. The large black dragon swung her enormous black head towards Dany’s direction, the fiery eyes blazed in her direction...until recognition set in. 

Taking a deep breath Dany proceeded to walk carefully to her beloved dragon...her child. Tears she was unable to contain fell from her eyes, as her hands touched the jawline of this precious being. A gasp of joy pushed forth as Drogon nudge Dany with her head. She could only press herself against this magic creature, releasing her feelings hoping that Drogon could sense how much she was missed. 

“Daenerys!” 

“Mama! Let go, Grandmother...”

Dany could hear her her husband and her daughter. She whispers against Drogon. “Come my child...it’s time to meet your sister.” She pauses before she adds, “I also need you to forgive Jon.” 

The dragon let out a huff at the sound of Jon’s name. A smile torn her face wide. Seems the dragon still does not like Jon...but a truce will be had regardless. 

“Come. Its okay.” She turns towards Jon and Missy. Jon picks up their daughter as he walks warily towards her. Hindya remains as she is, standing at a distance, her eyes wide in astonishment. Her reaction so typical of those who first meet a dragon. Dany had forgotten that look. 

“Dany...” Jon continues to eye Drogon was caution.

“You are safe Jon. Drogon won’t hurt you or her. She’s just like us. She wanted to come home.” Dany eyes implore Jon to trust her. She would not put any of them in harm’s way. 

“Mama your dragon came back.” Missy’s voice is laced with awe. Daenerys takes her daughter’s tiny hand and places it on the side of Drogon’s head.

“Gently stroke her head...just like that." Dany whispers to her daughter. 

"Yes...and it seems as though she has brought you and your siblings a few friends.” Dany’s violet eyes look towards the smaller dragons that have a combination of Drogon and Rhaegal’s coloring and markings. She notices Jon’s eyes stare at the one that looks almost identical in color and marking of its sire. 

Daenerys reaches to Jon’s bearded cheek, pulling his attention to her. They have an unspoken conversation as their daughter continues to stroke the dragon before her. Together they nod in agreement. Daenerys steps closer into his space, she whispers, “We’ll talk to Sansa. I think she’ll agree.” 

Dany turns back to Drogon, and she thinks that perhaps the world is not yet finished with magic.

***

Sansa stood looking at the mammoth dragon resting within the large clearing, with three smaller dragons nestled about. She raised her hands, palms up, to see the faint scars from the ritual she participated in long, long ago. Her mind releasing her attention from the conversation at hand.

“What do you think, Sansa?” Daenerys asked, her violet eyes gazing at her intently.

“About what?” Sansa murmured, still a bit shocked at seeing five dragons on the island.

“About what Dany just proposed?” Jon followed; he cups Sansa’s face to peer up at him. Once her eyes meet his, he continues. “She would like to return to travel with Drogon and her children to Meereen.”

“I want to show Drogon that the Bay of Dragon is her home...and that of her children.” Violet eyes pleaded with her. “Dragons are not slaves and there is no stopping them from coming back, but Meereen is familiar to Drogon...Torgo is familiar. The dragon and I are still bonded. I willed her away once. I can do it again. I can try to will Drogon to help Torgo to protect the people that reside in Meereen. 

Sansa considered Daenerys words. Daenerys wanted to go back to Meereen, and Sansa could understand her reasons why. Shortly after Missy’s birth, most of Daenerys’s Unsullied left with their commander...all with a few exceptions who currently work under Jon. They have had news over the years about the state of Meereen. There had been some political unrest, but upon the arrival of Torgo Nudho the country had seen a shift in power. It is not a perfect place, but no location is, and from her correspondence with her former commander Daenerys seems quite pleased considering. 

“How long will you be gone?” Sansa inquired. Her next thought went to her stepdaughter. “Do you intend to take Missandei?”

“I will just as long as your last trip to Braavos, about two moons. As for Missy, I will leave her here. She is safer on the island.” The long silver-blonde haired woman squeezed her hand. “Besides she needs to witness me sending my dragon to a place better suited for them, even though I would love if she could remain with me. Everyday life in Westeros is not made for dragons, and dragons are not conducive to everyday life in Westeros. _They only work during exceptional times, for the greater good, yes._ ”

Sansa nods in agreement. Dragons really have no place in the everyday life of people on Westeros. The hard-fought peace and trust they have made with the continent could be undone by these creatures. The best course of action is to have people witness Daenerys sending such beings away.

“When would you leave?” Sansa asked as her eyes look over at Drogon.

“In a couple of days. They can’t remain here longer than that.” Sansa nods her agreement. “You may not want to hear this Sansa, but I want to see if any of the children show any potential bond with Drogon’s children.”

“What?” Sansa’s eyes widened, she felt frantic at the notion. “No, absolutely not.”

“She has to Sansa.” Jon’s voice firm and resolute. 

“Why?” Her heart beats furiously at the thought of any of the children standing before a beast such as these. It is not what the animals represent, it is just that they are unpredictable...and should their children do the wrong thing then they could perish. A dragon is not a direwolf. 

“Because there may come a time when their dragon will come for them. I will have to teach the children what it means to be a dragonrider. Being called a Snow will not erase the magic that responds to the magic in dragons. I was unprepared for what dragons were and what being a dragonrider meant. We all know how well I navigated that experience. Dragons can always come back...and they will find their riders. Those riders may be our children or grandchildren...our descendants. They must know, learn...they must be ready should they ever have to claim their dragons.”

Sansa wanted to fight Daenerys on her logic, but she knew the woman was right. Being a Snow did not discount the Targaryen blood that ran through her husband or their children. Dragons could return and they needed to be ready...isn’t that what Jon swore to do...make the realm ready. That might include dragons...and their future kin to ride them. 

“I need to think about this. I am not sure. They are so young...” Sansa tries to find the words. She can see that Jon is accepting of her struggle, but Daenerys seems...resigned. “I think I would feel better about the idea if they were older. It is not that I do not trust the validity of your words, Daenerys. I see the value in teaching them. I just cannot bring myself to trust the dragons. Not with them being so small. I understand if you will try with Missy, but I cannot grant my permission for the others. I am sorry.”

Looking at the dragons one more time, she turns away and returns to the safety of her Keep, walking as fast as she could.

***

Sansa found it hard to sleep that evening. She know that Daenerys may feel slightly cross with her, but she doesn’t care. Dragons and young children are not a good combination. Her mind goes to the story she had heard of the young farmer’s child who had been burned by Drogon so many years ago. Jon seems to understand her hesitation a bit better, but then again he has his own reservations about dragons.

Wrapping her night cloak around her, Sansa leaves her chambers and without arrangement walks to the battlements. She stares in the direction she knows the dragons to be. Upon their arrival the islanders were terrified to know that dragons were on the island. Daenerys assured them that she would be taking them away...back to Essos to their home. People were warned to stay away from the western coast of the island until she and the dragons had departed. Jon stationed men creating a safe perimeter between the people and the dragons. Though precautions existed, tensions were still high. 

Hearing booted feet hitting the stone floor, Sansa thinks it might be Jon, but then notices the pattern of the steps didn’t quite fit. Turning to the sound, she sees Hindya walking towards her. Even though it has been a little over six years, Sansa still finds herself astonished that her Aunt Lyanna had survived...another secret her father took to his grave. While she loved her father greatly, Sansa wondered what penance he must be paying in the afterlife for keeping such secrets. 

“Can’t sleep can you?” Hindya stands beside her, staring in the same direction Sansa had been looking at just moments before. 

“No. Having them here kinds of reminds me of when Drogon and Rhaegal first came to Winterfell. I didn’t feel comfortable with them then...I feel even less comfortable now. I understand the draw for Daenerys though.” At that moment Ghost makes an appearance, butting up against her. She now hears the faint echo of footsteps she knows well enough...Jon.

“The draw?” Hindya clears her voice, Sansa sees Jon out of the corner of her eye. Hindya pauses as she acknowledges her son.

“Houses that have animals as their sigil, there is a bond and it can be very powerful.” Jon pulls her into his embrace, his exhalation warming the side of her head, his lips laying a single kiss on her temple. “For us direwolves, while dangerous, are real. Rare to be found further South than the wall, but still always real...the expectation of them is manageable because they have continuously existed in our realities. But dragons, no...they died out long ago. All the knowledge we have about them and their behaviors come from stories that have either been embellished or simplified. They are unknown, and people don’t always know how to react to the unknown. Dragons are not unknown to her, so she will see them differently...gentler, tamable, just as we view Ghost and his kind.” 

“I remember the first time I saw them on Dragonstone. Enamored was the word I would have used to describe Daenerys’s feeling towards them, I saw them as a means to an end. Perhaps if Rhaegal had survived I would feel differently, but he hadn’t.” Jon sighs deeply, his eyes on his wife and mother. “Having been bonded to a direwolf and a dragon, they feel different, but the connection is there...just right under the surface of your consciousness. Even before I met Rhaegal I knew something was different about me. I just assumed it was my bastardy...that it was nothing of consequence. It wasn’t until I found my own dragon that things began to make sense for me.”

“You knew?” Hindya voice sounded small against the silence of the dark night. 

Jon looked towards Hindya, mouth pinched, he sent her a sharp nod. Sansa tactfully tries to bring him comfort as she strokes his back with her hand. Talking with Hindya can be a bit of a challenge for him still. For all his want of having a mother, he struggles with her and the decisions she had made, which ultimately impacted so many people. “Aye. I knew I was different. Daenerys once spoke of her brother Viserys. She said he would tell her not to awaken the dragon. Once my parentage came to light, that statement resonated with me more than you’ll ever know. My feelings as a wolf feel different than my feelings as a dragon. It is a challenge I can teach our children to recognize within themselves.

“So many years ago, I believed your father when he spoke of his prophecy, but after you were born I thought he must have been wrong about it all...for you were not a Visenya. However, as I stand here, I think about the unholy threat that came from the North, the battle for the dawn...the existence of dragons, and I think he was not completely wrong...he had been correct about some things.” Sansa notices her good-mother’s voice taper into a murmur as though she forgotten she had been speaking to them. “Jon, you said you felt different...always had. Perhaps that is how you identify if any of your children have the calling.” 

Sansa looks to her husband; she thinks that sounds like a better idea that introducing the children to dragons. Just as she is about to tell him so she sees Daenerys running out of the keep with guards. All three of them witness it, and just Jon begins to call down to her the horns are sounded piercing in tandem with a dragon’s roar. 

Running as fast as her legs can travel, she reaches Daenerys before Jon or his mother. “What is it Daenerys?”

The other woman’s eyes looked panicked, her typical composed demeanor none existent in this moment. Her visage only served to heighten Sansa’s own hysteria. Grabbing each other’s hands, Daenerys shouts, “Missandei and the twins are gone. I found Missy’s summer cloak in my room, and I went to return it to the nursery, and I noticed their beds were empty. They are not in their rooms. I notified to guards; but we couldn’t find them in the Keep.”

Sansa could barely hear Jon or Hindya shouting commands, the sounds of people moving about, the brightening of the courtyard as more lanterns were lit. Like a small needle piercing a thick woolen fabric, she hears only Daenerys’s voice. “I warned you Jon. I told you we should have moved her out of the nursery. She is too headstrong, and the twins follow her everywhere. Missy spoke about going with the twins on an adventure. Did you not warn the guards to remain vigilant?” 

Another dragon roar shrieks, making the people who remained in the courtyard freeze in fright. Walking up to Daenerys and Jon, “What if they went to see the dragons? The creatures have been silent since they have arrived, and yet now they have roared...why? I think the children are there with them...or at least on their way. What greater adventure than finding your own dragon?”

Her husband’s and her sister-wife’s eyes widen with understanding, and without further thought they run to the stables to gather their horses. Daenerys takes off on her mount without waiting and Hindya follows on Sansa steed. Jon swings her up behind him, she grips him tightly as his stallion fly out of the stable on the heels of the women who left seconds before. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tries to ground herself to Jon, all the while praying to the gods that she doesn’t think exist. Once again Sansa finds herself praying to for Ned Stark to hear her pleas...to send his grace to protect the children.

They froze once at the clearing, their guards behind them, all are quiet as not to disturb the scene before them. 

Missandei was teaching Ayrenne how to touch her dragon’s head. The childish voice saying, “Just like this Arry, slow and gentle.” Her red hair windswept from her journey, Sansa’s daughter copied her sister’s motions...as though she were stroking one of the kittens from the litter that lived in the stables instead of an emerald green and bronze dragon. 

Her eyes frantically looked for her son, only to find him resting his whole body against the flank of another young green dragon with black markings. Robb’s body moving with the exhalations and inhalations of the magical beast. His childish laughter showing his lack of sense at the seriousness of the situation. 

A black dragon made its way to Jon and Daenerys’s daughter, who at this point was sitting against a white and bronze colored dragon. Not understanding the danger, she had put herself and her siblings in, the little girl begins to explain, to the smaller version of Drogon, that her younger brother Benjen was still way too young to come out and play this evening. 

All of this was occurring under the watchful eyes of Drogon.

Everyone carefully and quietly slid off their mounts. It is taking all of Sansa’s strength _not_ to scream as she runs for her children. 

“Missandei, Robb, and Aryenne come to me now.” Jon’s voice echoed, pulling the children’s attention immediately to their father. 

“Look Father, we found the dragons. I think this one is Benjen’s. I told him that Ben was too young to come with us today." Missandei called out distractedly to her father.

“Missandei!” Jon repeats a bit more forcefully. His voice sounding hard...a tone the children have heard before, but never has he use it with young children on the island...including his own. His children recognize the call to follow his instruction without argument. Sansa keeps a steady prayer on repetition as she watches the dragons with their youngsters. The Snow children immediately attend to their father, each leaving a hug or a kiss on their dragon before running to him. As this is occurring, Sansa sees a blur of silver-blonde out of the corner of her eye. Daenerys walks towards Drogon. The woman speaks to her familiar in a language Sansa does not understand, and Drogon screeches, her own children appearing to listen to their mother.

Dropping down to gather the children, she checks them over, and the little devils are smiling at her...explaining all about their adventure. Sansa couldn’t will her heart to a state of calm, not while they were so close to the dragons. Something in her expression, in her countenance spoke to Jon for he told her to ride back with their offspring. So, without further instruction Sansa and her good-mother rode away with all the children.

***

After such excitement Sansa laid the children to sleep in her own chambers. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stares at them. The ones she bore and the one she grew to love. She stirred when she heard a quiet knock at the door. Sansa did not move; she couldn’t stop looking at the children. What a blessing they were not hurt? Thank you, Father, she thinks.

“San...we need to speak.” Jon’s whispers to her as not to disturb the children. Acknowledging her husband with a nod, she climbs off the bed and follows him out of her chambers. 

“Do not leave this post. One of you must remain in the room at all times.” Jon sternly directs the new guards placed at her door. 

“Did you discover what happened with the guard who was to monitor the nursery?” Sansa inquired as she followed Jon to his room.

“Aye. The guards never left their post. Seems as though there is an escape panel in the room...one that Missy clearly discovered but did not reveal.” His breath trembles. Sansa stops...touching his arm. This causes Jon to pause. “I have never been so scared Sansa. I’ve faced death...and seeing them with those dragons surpassed that feeling by miles. They are going to be the death of me.” He mumbles, grabbing her hand, and continuing the walk to his chamber. Sansa could relate. 

“It seems I may have been to permissive with Missandei. She and I will have a firm conversation on the morrow. I want her to be a child, to have a childhood, but I also need her to be more mindful that her actions can have serious consequences.” He shares with her just before they enter his room. “Afterwards I will have a milder conversation with the Robb and Aryenne. I want you present for both. 

Sansa nods her agreement. 

Once in the antechamber of Jon’s quarters, Sansa can see Daenerys standing by the window, her eyes unfocused. 

Sansa watches as Jon walks over to the tiny woman. “Dany?”

“I think I should leave tomorrow. I do not think we should postpone it another day. We now know the answer to our question. They will be dragonriders, potentially Benjen as well, if her conversation with the younger black dragon held any merit. I must leave for I do not want to give her another day to try and ride one.” Daenerys gripped her haired harshly as forced out a deep breath. Sansa watches as Daenerys walks towards her, near the hearth, as she tries to find her equilibrium. Not an easy task Sansa thinks, not when the body is still fighting to right itself after such a shock. 

“Perhaps Benjen won’t be.” Sansa whispers as she discreetly holds a hand to her waist. 

“Or he is...” Daenerys leans into her, “I can’t live forever...and dragons can bond with more than one rider.”

Their eyes meet. Sansa hears Daenerys words...heeds them. She gestures in understanding. Sansa sees Jon eyeing them, and as she has not shared with him the news of her pregnancy she attempts to redirect his attention. 

“Have you finished mapping your route?” Sansa inquires in a louder voice as Jon makes his way towards them. She worries about the other kingdoms learning of the dragons existence on Bear Island.

“Yes. I will fly away from the coast and over Free Folk country to the western side of the continent. I will fly over the sea off of the coast of Essos. I’ll make my way South and eventually turn East until I reach the Bay of Dragons.” Daenerys looks at her and Jon. 

“While I personally would prefer the dragons to be gone, the children will not understand your sudden disappearance. Not when they know they have you for another day. Give Missandei the time to say goodbye to you, though a day is not much, it will mean plenty to a child.” Daenerys send an uncertain look towards Jon, then swings her violet gaze to Sansa. “Very well. I will leave as planned, but they must be watched more carefully...especially while the dragons are on the island.” Daenerys exclaims, her eyes back on Jon. A sentiment Sansa gladly shares. 

“Aye.” Jon agrees. “I will update guard detail. We will figure this out.”

“Is she still in your chambers, Sansa?” Sansa nods. “Do you mind if I sleep there tonight? Sansa gestures her agreement. She watches as Daenerys leave Jon’s room, sure that the mother in her needs to see her child. Sansa turns to head back to her own chamber, but stops at the odd expression on Jon’s face. 

“What is wrong?” She queries. 

“I do not want you to take this the wrong way, but my wives are leaving me alone in my chamber...while they plan to share a bed together.” Sansa arches a brow at him, daring him to finishes his thought. The shameless man fights the tugging at his lips. “I just never thought I’d ever see the day.”

“Oh, to the bloody hell with you, Jon Snow. Good night.” Sansa finds herself leaving his chambers, all the while trying to keep her amusement from showing. 

"Dragons do seem to bring the strangest things to Westeros?" His voice follows her out of his chambers. She shakes her head at his foolishness.

Who knew one could find humor after a night like this?

***

A little more than two moons have passed since Daenerys left with her dragons. A couple of letters from Bran told them of Daenerys well-being, and her limited success with training the dragons to remain near the Bay of Dragons, while getting them to attend to Torgo Nudho. Sansa wondered when the woman would return, for she knows Missandei misses her...as does Jon, though he does a wonderful job of pretending otherwise.

Sansa sits on the blanket as the children play with each other in the clearing where their dragons once stood. She hears a snap of a branch, and turns towards the sound. There is her husband with what looks to be like a few letters of correspondence. He drops down beside her, and gestures for her to rest on him. She does so, as she begins to crack open the seal of her first letter. 

The letter comes from Winterfell. Seems as though all is well there. King Brandon and Queen Meera seem well. Their boys are doing well. Eddard showing an aptitude for horses and Jojen for swordplay. It seems little Rickon just enjoys looking at books. A much calmer version of his namesake. 

Arya has come to visit with Lord Gendry, and they plan to come to Bear Island in a moon’s turn. Leave it to her sister _not_ to send a warning of her arrival. The lack of courtesy makes Sansa sigh with frustrated affection. Catelyn Stark would be highly peeved, she thought. But Arya is Arya...and that is something Sansa would never want to change. This is the fourth visit Lord Gendry has made up North with her sister. While she know that her sister does not want to play the part of a lady, it doesn’t stop her from representing the North on treats with the Stormlands, allowing Arya to ignore the reality that she is most certainly the unofficial Lady of Storm’s End. 

Brienne has made the request to be temporarily released from her duties. Bran suggest she keep her eyes open for a raven on this regard, for every year the woman makes the journey to Bear Island. Sansa looks forward to seeing her friend again.

Her eyes scan over the rest of the missive. It seems as there is an agreement to host another trade summit, as requested by Lord Manderly and King Robyn Arryn. She thought she might not be able to attend, as she was already five moons into her pregnancy. Thinking to inform the men herself, she decided to also send a letter to Lord Royce for it has been some time since they have written to each other. Last she heard his gout had improved after he tried a healing recipe Hindya had suggested. 

The next missive comes from further North...from Frozen Shore. It was a letter from Podrick and Jayne. He informs her about his family. It was about four years ago when they had their son, a boy they named Rion. Podrick wanted to name the child in honor of Tyrion. Sansa recollects his letter explaining his reason. _“I know what happened. I know what he did and who he was. I won’t color his choices differently, but he did take me on when no one would. He made sure I had a place to go when he could no longer care for me. In his perverse cosmic way, that one could only call Tyrion-esque, he led me to Jayne. For that alone, I will always be grateful to him. While I can’t exactly give my son his actual name...for it is despised in many regions, I can honor him in my own way._

Sansa could respect Pod and Jayne choice. Sometimes her own thoughts go to the day of Tyrion’s beheading. She could not bring herself to attend, but she knew that Podrick had...and so had Ser Davos. Looking back at the letter she sees lighter news, for it seems like they were about to have another babe. Sansa smiled at the thought. It seems she and Jayne, through distance, still seem to find themselves sharing the same things...from stitching advice as girls to parenting suggestions as mothers. 

Pod states the production of the latest ships are ahead of its scheduled completion, leaving her to inform the buyer. He speaks of Hindya’s plan to return to their island for the birth of her next grandchild, and thought that perhaps Jayne would come for a short visit...as she is still very early stages of her pregnancy. Sansa made a note to write them back immediately, she would love to see Jayne. The last time they spent any time together was when the whole family went to Frozen Shore last year. 

The former squire also made mention of Tormund finding _love_ in the arms of a very robust red-head named Tilda. It seems the Free Folk leader found her on one of his tours across the North...an older woman...much like him. Sansa imagines Brienne will be grateful for the news. The lady knight always arranging her visit when Tormund is not on the island. 

The last letter comes with the seal of House Tarly. Sansa carefully opens the letter, seeing the beautifully written scrawl of Samwell. It seems as though his sister, has decided to marry a young man from the Reach. He was sending her an invite, as a leader of trade in the North. She understands. It is a political invitation, as the Reach and the North have had dealings with each other. 

The man does mention the good health of his wife and that of his three children...Little Sam, Olivia, and Little Talla. He sends good fortune in her opportunity to attend, but understands is circumstances prevent _her_ attendance. Sansa heart aches a small bit for the loss of Sam from Jon’s world. While her husband has men who follow him, he no longer has any real close companions...always making an unconscious note to keep other men at a distance. He has Tormund who has made it a point to visit every couple of years, but that is not quite the same. Since the summit, Sansa has had the pleasure of seeing Sam at a few meetings around the continent as they represent their homes. The man continues to be warm towards her and genuinely inquiries about her children, but rarely does he go beyond that. May hap Samwell still feels the sting of his and Jon’s end just as acutely as she thinks her husband feels it. 

Deciding to send a gift in lieu of her attendance, she considers the intelligence of all these letters, her mind beginning to write the responses in her head. Sansa barely recognizes that Jon is rubbing the end of her hair against his lips...his eyes on the children as the girls begin to chase Robb. 

It dawns on Sansa that the letter from Podrick is not rolled, but rather folded. This letter did not arrive by a raven. Sitting up abruptly, well as abruptly as a woman with a burgeoning belly can, she asked Jon about the letter. “How did you get Podrick’s letter?” 

A sly smirk tugs at Jon’s lips, his eyes quietly alight with merriment. “Noticed that one was different, aye?”

“Jon!”

“It came special delivery.” He smirk lessens more into a gentle smile. 

“How?” Sansa prods, but before she could say anything else she pauses when an ear-splitting scream rents the air. Her eyes immediately go to the source of such a sound. Sansa’s body softens as she sees the “how” making her way to them. Running as fast as her legs will take her, Missandei Snow left her siblings in a state of trying to catch up with her longer legs, as the little girl flew into her mother’s arms. 

“Mama!”

“Oh, my Sweetling!”

Sansa laid back down against her husband’s chest, her hand over his heart, as his fingers once again played mindlessly with her hair. She watched as mother and daughter reunited...tears, hugs, and kisses, as her own children seek to get Daenerys attention as well. An experience Sansa is intimately familiar with...since the roles are usually reversed between the two women. 

As Sansa takes in the scene, a home, a husband, children...a family...one that she has built with and shares with another. She has found purpose in her family and drive to help her people...those on the island and those of the North. Never before has her mother’s House words seem the truest way to describe her life... _Family, Duty, Honor._ She smiles to herself as she adds, _...and a Dragon Queen._

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> So did you guess the surprise...did you see her coming? I hope you did because she was on my outline in bold lettering...lol.


End file.
